


Blame It On Me

by mightbeababygay



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Party, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Death, Murder Mystery, Secret Santa, alternative universe, description of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeababygay/pseuds/mightbeababygay
Summary: Callum’s life had never been better, he’d never been happier. Being free, having a boyfriend and a decent job. What more could a guy want? Especially at Christmas. Going to Christmas parties, or any type of event that involved social interactions, wasn’t something he enjoyed. Except, with Ben by his side, it wouldn’t be so bad.That’s what Callum thought, at least. Somebody else had very different, more sinister, ideas, as they attempt to bring a game of Cluedo to life.-A Ballum Murder Mystery AU.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!! this one is just the introduction to set the scene of the universe but I'm so excited to write this fic and I hope you like it to! 
> 
> Let me know what you think;  
> Twitter - @cicatrizedskies  
> Tumblr - @mightbeababygay
> 
> x

The swirling sound of the wind pulling the snow in different directions, the push and pull of the movement, caught Callum’s eye out of the window as he sat gormlessly at his desk. His pen tapped continuously on the steel rim of the wooden desk, light specks of ink splattering down to stain it, mixing with the old coffee marks his mug made when he missed the coaster.

His inner child was screaming at him to go outside, grab a scoopful of freezing cold snow and throw it at something. A stranger, a passing by car, the office building. To feel his nose turn cold, fingers lose the feeling in them, snowflakes litter in his hair. But instead, he was stuck in the office.

Not that he minded too much, working for Mitchell’s Real Estate was probably one of the best jobs someone could have. Even if he was only a receptionist. Their CEO, Phil, was a bald man in his 50’s who walked with a purpose in his step and always had a face that screamed ‘don’t talk to me unless spoken to,’ which was fine for Callum. He didn’t particularly want to talk to Phil anyway - he only spoke to you if you were in trouble.

Fortunately, Phil had better things to be doing than sit in the office.

It was a small business. An estate agent for the rich who wanted their houses with enough spare rooms to have a small village stay the night. They had contractors to build the houses, a set of designers to create floor plans and the perfect sales team to land the sale. But only if the rich had the money to put it where their dreams lay.

They usually could.

Pop singers and actors, television hosts and famous artists had all walked through the front door and every one of them paid their millions to live in a Mitchell-built-and-sold house.

The office itself was even more luxurious than the buildings they sold. White flooring and dark walls with gold finishes and an open plan. Glass doors, wooden desks, chairs which you couldn’t help but sink into and never want to leave. It screamed ‘expensive’ the second you pushed back the heavy entrance door.

Callum loved his desk. Not only did he have tinsel wrapped around the rim, and a small figurine Santa on display, he also had the best seat in the building. He could sit and watch everyone, even if the sales team only consisted of four (plus Callum). Tasha, Simon, Greg and, of course, Ben. Where did he even start with Ben?

Ben Mitchell.

Their in-house boss.

The CEO’s son. You could see the resemblance in the way they walked and the look in their eye when they were angry. That same temper when something went wrong. A sale that fell through. Materials for a new-build not being available for months.

But the differences between the two characters far out-weighed their similarities.

Ben exuded charm. He charmed the rich and the famous, his colleagues and even the drinks runner. The playful glint in his eye, cheeky smirk plastered across his face. Harsh words soothed by soft dimples. So many complex layers, battling with one another, compact in a short height that matched his father’s.

It wasn’t any wonder that Callum had fallen for him.

Hook.

Line.

and Sinker.

He wasn’t to blame. There wasn’t a single person in this entire building that didn’t have some form of crush on Ben Mitchell.

Well, except Simon.

According to Ben, the tall brunette seemed to have taken a liking to Callum. He, of course, denied it. Simon was just being nice.

Besides, he barely knew the guy. Not that it mattered, either way. Callum only had eyes for one man and whilst Ben may have been battling through the people throwing themselves at him, Callum hoped the feelings were reciprocated.

The two had met a week or so before Callum had started working here, at Mitchell’s Real Estate. An unfortunate bumping into one another in the pub led to them getting to know one another. It wasn’t until after that meeting, did Callum turn up for his new job interview and find the person he had planned dates for sat opposite him.

_Callum stared down into his pint, the froth from the head having long since turned back into beer, the drink itself stale on his tongue from how long he’d been sat here, just watching it, lost in his head, thoughts swirling._

_Mick had come over once or twice within the first hour of Callum being hunched over the bar counter but had soon released he wasn’t in the mood to talk. A quick mumble of ‘yeah’, on the younger man’s behalf was enough for the bar owner to realise Callum didn’t want the company. That he was happy to be sat in silence, by himself. Well, as happy as he could be with the downturn of his mouth, the sad look in his eye, as he checked over his phone time and time again._

_“Been stood up?”_

_A voice pulled Callum from his thoughts as he finally looked up, the stale beer giving him no answers to the questions he had._

_“Yeah, actually.” Callum gave a short, sharp huff of breath, shifting in his seat to accommodate the stranger who slid onto the bar stool next to him. He picked his pint glass up, taking a small sip of the stale drink to wash down the embarrassment left on his tongue from his answer._

_Grimacing from the taste, Callum placed the beer back down on the paper coaster, lining it up perfectly with the darker ring from the condensation just to stall for those few precious seconds before he looked up._

_When he finally did, he couldn’t help but swallow once more._

_He was beautiful._

_“Her loss.” The soft-haired brunette smirked in response, dragging his eyes over Callum once, maybe twice if Callum had stopped to check before diverting his eyes, cheeks aflame with a blush._

_“His.” Callum couldn’t help but correct him, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat. He’d played the straight card before, had long been free from the caged he’d locked his inner self in. He wasn’t going back._

_It had been several years since Callum had truly come out, to those who mattered. His brother, Stuart. His ex-girlfriend and fiance, Whitney. But most importantly, himself. Never did he think that the Callum of old would be sat here, a mix of emotions stirring thickly in his chest from being stood up and more importantly, announcing proudly that his date was actually a man to a complete stranger._

_More hard work had gone into building his self-esteem, a love for who he truly was, than he could have ever imagined. But he was proud now. And being proud meant having the courage to correct strangers when misgendering his dates._

_Even those that failed to turn up._

_Callum flicked his eyes back to his companion, watching as the smirk that was plastered across his face (and were those dimples?) only grew in size._

_“Guess he was a right idiot, turning down a guy like you.”_

_“Must be a lot of idiots in this town, then.” Callum gave a slight shrug. “Second time this week.” He tacked on after seeing the shorter man’s confused expression on his face._

_“Twice in a week?” He let out a quiet whistle under his breath. “Let me buy you a drink, least you’ll have a reason for getting all dressed up.”_

_Callum self-consciously fixed his blue button up, pulling lightly at the hem. He scorned himself. Not only had he been stood up, he had also managed to make himself sound desperate to what was probably the most attractive man he’d ever spoken to._

_It wasn’t even his idea, to go on these stupid dates. It was his brother’s, Stuart. According to him, as Christmas was on the horizon, he needed a boyfriend. Nobody could be lonely at Christmas, Callum had been told, even if it was four months away._

_But now he felt lonelier than ever. Unwanted. He wasn’t even worth a text to say they couldn’t make it. Not that he even knew how his brother was setting up the dates. Knowing Stuart, they were probably fake just so he’d get out of the house._

_It had been two months since they moved here, to Albert Square. In that time, Callum had been rejected from more jobs than he could count. Meanwhile, Stuart seemed to be flourishing from the move. Not only had he gotten himself a decent job, he’d also gotten himself a girlfriend._

_And while Callum was happy for him, truly, the noises echoing off the walls paired with the side comments and suggestions about him leaving the house every once in a while, were beginning to get to him._

_He couldn’t really blame them, though._

_This move was supposed to be a fresh start for the both of them and yet, Callum seemed to be in limbo at that place between finishing and starting fresh. Turning their backs on the demons that seemed to follow them around their childhood town, only the loneliness had followed him. Checking over his shoulder every once in a while allowed it to catch up. And now it was here, rooted in his chest like an old tree, roots spreading further, twisting and gripping onto his bones._

_“Yeah,” he finally spoke up, the slight upcurve of his mouth as his eyes met the man’s next to him once more. “Yeah. Why not?”_

Blinking away the memory, Callum couldn’t help the soft smile that seemed permanently planted on his face these days, especially when they involved the reason for his smile. Ben.

That failure of a date happened to turn into one of his best. Not that he had a long list of dates to rank. Letting Ben in, letting him buy that one pint had changed Callum’s life. The roots were finally beginning to unravel, his chest that little bit lighter every morning when he woke to a text from Ben, or better yet, the man himself beside him.

He pulled his chair further into the desk, shuffling forward in his seat to sit up. He could at least pretend to be working. One of the main reasons this was the best job was the workload. He wasn’t rushed off his feet all of the time, he could sit and focus on what he was doing without the voices in the back of his mind warning about the long list of everything else that needed to be done before he could leave.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Callum jumped up in his seat slightly, grabbing his pen tighter to further emphasise the point that he was definitely working. He cleared his throat before looking up at the shadow that was blocking the crisp winter sun.

“Hey, Tasha. How long have - how long have you been standing there?” He gave her a feeble smile.

“Long enough.” She cracked a wide grin, placing the pile of paper she had in her hand down on Callum’s desk. “Dreaming about your boyfriend?”

“Thinking of what to get you for Christmas, actually.” Callum reached for the pile of paper, flicking through the notes. “Speaking of Christmas…” he mumbled.

“The most expensive perfume you can find, will do. Oh, actually, there is a Gucci jacket I had my eye on.” Tasha tapped the pencil against her chin.

“Already brought.” Callum chuckled, nodding his head. Tasha was, perhaps, his favourite employee at the firm. She was clever, quick-witted but also one of the nicest people Callum had met, the first one to introduce herself and make him feel welcome. And not just to appease Ben, unlike some of the others who had clearly worked out what was going on between the two of them.

“Now that you mention Christmas, you need to send out the invitations.” Tasha reminded him. “This is the design you need to send to the print company and don’t forget the embossing. The invitation itself has been written down. Oh, and the minimum budget for the Secret Santa is £10.”

“Secret Santa?” Callum asked, looking up from where he was scribbling down his notes, ink blotches staining his hand from where he’d smudged the writing, not leaving it long enough to dry.

“You’ve never heard of Secret Santa before? Oh, baby.” She teased him, perching herself down on the edge of his desk, her hand coming down to rest on his forearm. “It’s M.R.E. tradition. Every Christmas party we have a Secret Santa. Everyone gets two numbers on their invitation. One number is for who you’re buying for, the other is the present number which you’ll receive. At the party, everyone gathers around the table and one by one you pick up your number. Unwrap it. Pretend to be thankful for whatever rubbish you get. Then the fun part - guessing - and judging - who brought what.”

“So just normal Secret Santa, then. But for the rich, with no maximum budget. How can a present with no maximum budget be rubbish?” He asked.

“You wouldn’t believe it. One year, I got the most ugly statue I’d ever seen. Looked like it was hand-made. We’ve still not worked out who it was but Ben thinks it was Simon.” Both of their eyes flicked to the end of the office where Simon’s desk was.

“No way.” Callum shook his head as he watched the older male, eyebrows furrowed as he typed furiously away on the keyboard. “He’s too nice.”

“If by nice you mean a stickler for the rules, then perhaps. He’s only nice to you because he fancies you, you know that right? It’s true!” She spoke over the sound of Callum’s protests. “How many cups of tea has he gotten you? Little treats off of the snack bar? Boy is whipped for you.”

“Like I said, he’s nice.” Callum blushed.

“I’ve never brought you tea.”

“Exactly.” He grinned as Tasha gave him a playful push. “How much do you usually spend on this thing, then?” Callum picked up the mock design for the invitation, waving it around slightly in the air.

“Just ask your hot boyfriend for a bonus this month if you’re worried.” Tasha’s grin only widened at that as she tucked a braid back behind her ear. “Not that I know whether he’s hot. I presume he is from the way you’re gagging for it?”

“He’s hot.” Callum confirmed under his breath, cheeks burning a brighter shade of red than Santa’s hat. “And I’m not ‘gagging’ for anything.”

“Of course you’re not.” She gave a condescending pat to his arm before hopping down from the desk. “Speaking of your boyfriend, I’d give him a wide birth for the next hour or so.” Tasha warned, smoothing down her red, leather, knee length skirt that complemented her brown skin perfectly.

“What happened?” He frowned, craning his neck up as if he could see Ben’s office from his desk. He couldn’t. He’d tried that on his first day working here.

“The contractors fucked up again.”

Callum’s head dropped as he let out a ‘fuck’ under his breath. It wasn’t the first time this sort of thing happened, especially not since he’d started working here. He was just glad that he wasn’t in charge of that. But Callum knew that Ben - and everyone else that worked here - prided themselves on being the best of the best. And things like this, mixed up dates, materials being the wrong make or colour, those things weren't M.R.E performing at the standard they held themselves at, which only added to the pressure on everyone’s shoulder, but no more than Ben’s.

\--

Dropping his bag down at the doorstep, Callum couldn’t help the drop in his shoulders, the relief of this day being over. He was generally a happy person (on the outside) and tried to make everybody in the same room as him feel better even if it sapped the energy from him. And when things went wrong at work, he couldn’t help but feel that, too.

Especially when there was no way for him to help. Being involved with the firm, but also having a different position to the rest of the team, made it easier for him to sense the way they were feeling.

It was written across their faces, the quiet murmur of the office falling to silence, the only sounds echoing through were the harsh tapping sound of fingers on keyboards, the scratch of the ballpoint pen pressing through the paper.

It changed his job title, in his eyes. No longer was he a receptionist, smoothing out all the documentation and organising calendars, he was something else. Something more.

When things went wrong, he usually put aside his own work and helped everyone as much as he could. Whether it was something as simple as bringing cups of tea, or more complex situations like finding different companies that sold the exact same product and how many they could get from each. It was a weight off of everyone else’s shoulders.

The only person he’d learned to avoid in those situations, was his boyfriend.

When Ben was stressed - or angry - he had one of two moods. Either he snapped and yelled, or he closed himself off and cracked jokes that had a little bit more bite and a lot more sting than usual. Something which Callum was used to at the beginning of their relationship, but less so now, four months down the line.

He didn’t care, however. He knew he could handle Ben, that wasn’t the problem. It was the guilt Ben felt afterwards once the issue had been fixed and the load lifted from his shoulders.

And, if Ben was anything, it was stubborn. After the first time it had happened, the two of them held awkward conversations with one another, string pulled taut between them, the fragile bond they’d created threatening to snap. It was then Callum realised Ben doesn’t apologise.

Admitting you’re wrong is weakness, and Ben Mitchell isn’t weak. Especially not in the open plan of the office. It took them a day for the lingering residue of Ben’s sharp shots to leave the empty space around them.

It was in that moment Callum released that Ben wasn’t all that different from him. They both hid themselves, their true feelings. Callum behind kindness, Ben behind his sharp tongue.

But they’d grown together. Both of them adapting, moving the pieces of themselves around, rearranging, until they slotted together, fitting perfectly.

Callum loved Ben’s fiery side just as much as the rest of him, and he could handle himself, he’d told Callum as much as that himself.

So Callum stayed away from the shut door and focused on the people who needed him more in those moments.

It didn’t stop Callum from sending him a text, though, at the end of the day.

He toed off his work shoes, nudging them to the side of the doorframe with his foot and shifted the bag to sit besides them as he wandered through to the kitchen, eyes trained on his phone.

_[Callum] How bad was it today? x_

Placing the phone down on the countertop, the screen glaring back at him under the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, no doubt judging him for still living with his brother as the sound of laughter echoed down the hall from Stuart’s bedroom.

Callum let out a deep breath, calming the irritation that was simmering under the surface. It wasn’t Stuart’s fault he’d had a bad day. Nor was it Rainie’s. They were allowed to be happy. But, Callum couldn’t help but send a quick prayer up to whoever was listening, for a quiet night.

When they’d both moved here, into a tiny two-bed flat, they hadn’t realised six months down the line that they’d still be living together, both searching for privacy and peace with their significant other’s. The idea was that it would be temporary until one of them found another place nearby.

Except there weren't too many places available right now, for Callum. He knew he just had to be patient. The right home had to turn up eventually.

Luckily for him, his boyfriend was stinking rich and lived in the biggest house Callum could’ve ever imagined. Three tiers with big double oak doors and a driveway the length of a football pitch. And that was just the main house. To the side was a smaller, open planned guest house which led onto the garage where Ben - and his dad - kept their classic car collection.

The first time Callum had visited was to pick Ben up for their first date. Not only did he have the usually first date nerves - even though Ben argued it was technically their second date, which he was right about, but the first, first date was by accident, so it didn’t count in Callum’s eyes - he also had to deal with seeing just how filthy rich Ben was.

He had an idea, of course he did, from the way Ben dressed to the Black Amex credit card he used to pay for their drinks, it was clear that Ben - and his family - had money. And tonnes of it, at that.

But when he pulled up at the front of the iron gates in his ten-year old Peugeot 206 and clambered out of the door that stuck every time it was shut, to punch in the gate code, it was a shock to the system.

_Callum took a breath as he climbed back into his car, shutting the door once, twice, three times before it properly clicked shut. He looked down as his hands, the tremor in them clear to see. He clenched them tight into fists, nails pinching at the skin of his palm._

_He wasn’t supposed to be nervous. He didn’t need to be. Ben was someone he already knew, had sat with him for several hours in the Queen Vic. Met him at work. Texted him for hours on end. He didn’t have to impress like he did with someone he’d never met before._

_Except there was the added pressure that it was Ben._

_Ben, who, for the last few weeks hadn’t left his mind. He had managed to replay their first meeting over and over every day and every night, every waking moment he was thinking about sitting at the bar in the pub, talking...flirting._

_When he walked into that job interview several days after, he could have sworn his subconscious was playing tricks on him. No way could the man who hadn’t left his mind be sat opposite him, a look of disbelief quickly fading into a smug grin._

_Of course it was Ben. Sat there in his Armani suit next to a man Callum would soon learn was Ben’s father._

_He knew Ben. He’s even spoken to him about whether this ‘thing’ could continue now that Callum was working for him - he’d gotten the job. Whether Ben had an influence in that or not, Callum wasn’t sure and part of him didn’t want to know. Ben had only given him a wide smirk and cracked a joke about how didn’t Callum find it hot that he was dating his boss?_

_No, no, he didn’t. Especially when Ben wasn’t even their real boss, technically that was Phil._

_Since that conversation, hushed outside of the elevator at the office, Callum hadn’t seen Ben. They’d texted. Called. FaceTimed once or twice but not physically._

_The week that had passed since then, did nothing for Callum’s worries. The demons in his head, niggling at the back of his mind, ran wild._

_Maybe Ben would open the door and be repulsed by Callum._

_Maybe it had been a joke Callum just hadn’t gotten the punchline to, yet. Maybe he would when he’d parked the car at the door and Ben stepped out._

_He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking and the butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach. And seeing this house, realising the difference in lifestyle between the pair of them only made the voices louder, the butterflies more violent._

_The creaking of the gates brought him back to the moment as they began to automatically shut, the timer running out as they presumed the car had travelled through - it was plenty of time for any normal person. But for the one that was trying to give himself the pep talk of his life? He could’ve done with a few extra seconds. Maybe even minutes._

_Flooring the accelerator, Callum just about squeezed his way through the gate, millimeters to spare - not that a new scratch or dent would look out of place on this car._

_He shook his head to himself. Why he hadn’t just got back out, put the code back in and drove through like a normal, sane, person, he didn’t know. Callum just hoped there wasn’t any CCTV out here, he didn’t need Ben - or Phil - to be sat inside their luxury mansion laughing at him._

_Maybe it was the thought of getting out again, starting the whole process again, that scared him. Maybe if the gates closed, he wasn’t sure he would get out to reopen them. Gates slammed shut. Game over._

_Except he made it through._

_There was no turning back now._

Since that night, it had gotten easier. Callum still struggled, found himself feeling inadequate, stood next to someone like Ben Mitchell, but it was getting easier. Even if Ben tried to ply him with gifts as often as he could. Not that he accepted any of them - he’d gotten enough looks off of Greg at the office, Callum knew what he and others thought. Callum was dating Ben for the money. Probably for the gifts, too. That was one reason he never took them. Except for one or two that were too nice to resist.

A navy jumper that Ben demanded he have, apparently it brought out the colour in his eyes. Sometimes it was difficult saying no to Ben, and that was one of those times. His kind eyes and dimples on display and only for Callum, it was his weakness.

He knew deep down this was Ben’s way of making it easier - sincere words came difficult for the younger man, and expressing them through materialistic things, was his way of trying to show Callum he was in this.

While he didn’t have nearly as much money as Ben - neither of the Highway brother’s could ever say they were wealthy but they made enough to scrape get by - Callum gave as many gifts back to Ben, in return, in the form of baked goods and others which made Ben docile enough to agree to stop the expensive gift-giving. Until he’d brought the next one, anyway.

_[Ben] Wanna come and make me forget?_

It was embarrassing really, just how fast he dived for the phone, knocking the open bag of pasta he’d decided to cook.

But, grudgingly, that was who Callum was now. A love sick fool. Even after four months, that hadn’t changed. If anything, it’d gotten worse.

Not that he minded too much. Ben, and this town, had changed his life.

He’d never been happier.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether I even like this chapter but it's over 5k so enjoy the calm before the storm!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments or on my socials!!
> 
> Twitter - cicatrizedskies  
> Tumblr - mightbeababygay
> 
> x

The wispy echo of the wind crashed against the curtains, billowing them across the room as a shiver ran through both of the young men. It was silent in the house, the only noise coming from the birds outside, calling to one another. 

Callum’s nose twitched, his eyelashes fluttering as he slowly woke, a soft smile already on his face as he took in the noise, the calm serenity. He stretched out with a groan, muscles pulling tight before relaxing once again.

Eyelids heavy with the content feeling of a good night’s sleep, Callum blinked once and once more, before he was finally able to keep them open. He turned his head against the pillow, smile growing fonder as he took in the shape of his boyfriend laying beside him. The soft, pale skin of his back exposed, the silk sheets jostled in the night from their movements.

The curtains fluttered once more as a shiver ran through Callum’s body. He twisted himself back into his sleeping position, wrapped around the back of Ben, leg slung over the shorter man’s to pull him back firmly into his chest as he pressed his cold nose against Ben’s shoulder.

He couldn’t help but watch him in that moment, the crisp winter morning sun filtering in through the tangled curtains, basking Ben in a gentle glow as his eyebrows furrowed, a tell tale sign that he was beginning to wake. 

“Good morning.” Callum whispered against his chilling skin, lips brushing as he pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. Reaching over, he tucked a strand of hair away from Ben’s forehead with the pads of his fingers, a barely noticeable touch as he traced over his temple and along his cheek before his hand came to rest on his chest. 

“It’s cold in here.” Was the first response Callum got, Ben pressing the tips of his toes - ice cold - into Callum’s calf, his voice thick with sleep. Callum couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he leaned over the two of them to reach for Ben’s cochlear implant and placed it down in the younger man’s awaiting hand. 

It had taken a long time for Ben to open up about his hearing loss and the vulnerability he felt because of it. The loneliness and the isolation. The fear of the silence, not knowing what was coming next. 

Even though it had been years since he had the implant fitted, Callum knew he still held those fears deeply within him, knew how detached he felt when he had to take it out. Because of that, Callum tried to do the best he could for him, handing it to him whenever he woke up, no questions asked, charging it for him once he’d taken it out and fallen asleep, forgetting to do it himself.

But the adjustment of fitting into one another’s lives, bending and molding around one another continued to have it’s challenges. They’d butted heads over it. Callum thought he was just trying to be helpful for his boyfriend but Ben saw it as being looked after, babied. And, he could understand why. 

From the brief glimpses Callum had into Ben’s family life, it was clear to see he never had anyone truly looking out for him, fighting his corner. Neither of them had. That adjustment of having one another, took time, took patience. Both of them learning until they settled into their happy medium.

“You left the window open last night.” Callum told him once the implant was in place, voice soft, neither of the young men wanting to disrupt the quiet haven they’d made in the solitude of Ben’s bedroom. 

The bedroom itself radiated Ben’s personality. The walls were a soft shade of black, almost grey in the direct light with dark oak laminate flooring and thick grey curtains covering the full length door which lead onto a small balcony he had facing out into the open forest that surrounded the house. 

The bed, king size, was fitted with a dark headboard to match the flooring whilst the bedside table was littered with personal touches. A picture of the two of them from their holiday to Portugal, the protective case for his implant and his glasses. 

The dark colours mixed with the softest of touches summed Ben up perfectly. It personified everything the outside world would never get to know - to see - Ben as. That side was purely for Callum and he, himself was selfish enough to admit he didn’t want to share that side of Ben, either. 

“Not my fault you decided to light that candle.” Ben shifted, moving to lie on his back, pulling the covers up higher over the two of them. “Stunk like piss.”

“It was your candle.” Twisting himself to lean further over Ben, Callum pressed a whisper of a kiss to the corner of Ben’s mouth. “It was supposed to smell of Christmas.”

“You missed my lips.” Ben murmured, nipping at Callum’s chin. 

“I wasn’t aiming for them.”

“No?” Ben raised his eyebrows, curling his warm palm against the back of Callum’s neck, thumb brushing against his short, shaven hair. “Why’s that, then?”

“You forgot to say good morning.” Callum teased, brushing his lips against Ben’s as he spoke, nipping his bottom lip in response. 

“Guess I’m still recovering from last night.” Teasing glint in Ben’s eye, he nudged Callum’s head upwards so their eyes met. “Good morning, babe. Can I get my kiss now?”

“Must be doing my job properly then, huh?” Callum connected their lips, his eyes fluttering shut as the butterflies stirred awake in his stomach, the same feeling he got every time they touched, one which he hoped would never grow old.

“Think I need a repeat performance to judge that.” Ben hummed, head tipping back as Callum trailed open mouth kisses along his jaw, damp skin meeting the cold air causing a shiver to run down the younger man’s spine.

“Do we have time?” He asked against Ben’s ear. The day had finally come for the Mitchell’s Christmas Party and Callum could already see the tension building in Ben’s shoulder’s. 

Neither of them were particularly looking forward to it. So much planning had gone into the event, and it had to run perfectly. This Christmas party wasn’t like any other normal office party, it was a chance for potential clients to see what they were capable of, to understand just how professional the Mitchell’s were whilst also attempting to allow the staff to relax. If that was even possible under the beady eye of Phil Mitchell.

“We’ll make time.”

“Ben.” Callum huffed, pulling back to look properly at the younger man. 

“Callum.” He gave his boyfriend a sweet smile in response. “If you get on with it, we might even have time for two rounds.”

“Alright for you, you’ve just gotta lay there.” Callum shifted in the bed to align their bodies, chests pressing together. 

“We can change it up if you want,” Ben trailed his fingers down Callum’s spine, grasping the covers and pulling them up over their heads, creating the perfect cocoon. “But I know how much you love it.”

“Yeah, well, I love you any which way.” He pressed their foreheads together, grasping at Ben’s hands and tangling their fingers together, pressing them down into the foam mattress either side of Ben’s head before connecting their lips. 

“Even if I was a murderous psycho?” Ben teased, voice breathless as Callum grazed his teeth over Ben’s jaw which was dotted with morning stubble. 

“Depends. Who you murdering?” Callum asked half-heartedly, laughter in his voice, not caring much for the conversation as he continued to trail his tongue down Ben’s neck and along his collarbone. 

“Well,” Ben stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he tipped his head back, neck arching forward towards Callum. “Depends who’s pissing me off. Probably Simon.”

“Ben.” Releasing the smaller man’s hands, Callum began pushing himself away in annoyance, only to be stopped by Ben’s heel digging into the back of his thigh, keeping him in place. “How many times are we gonna have this conversation?”

“If I kill him off, we won’t ever have to have this conversation again.” Ben grinned, trying to ease the ugly twist in the mood. 

“No, you’re right, because if you’re stupid enough to get caught, then you’re not worth the effort of travelling for visitation hours.” 

“No?” Ben hummed, hand resting on the back of Callum’s head, nails scratching his scalp. “Even if I promise you a good time when I get out?”

“You know how long you get for murder? Fifty to life.” Callum let out a quiet moan as Ben nibbled at his earlobe. “You’d barely be able to get up out of bed, doubt anything else of you is gonna be able to get up.”

“Sexy man like you? I’m sure I’d manage.” Ben murmured low against his neck, words punctured with a sharp roll of the hips that left them both gasping, clutching at one another. 

“You know there ain’t anything going on there, right?” Callum couldn’t help but check, squeezing Ben’s hips. “He just brings me cups of tea, I thank him and he leaves.”

“Long as it stays like that and he ain’t trying any funny business tonight. ‘Cos you’re mine, ain’t ya?” 

“I’m yours.” Callum flushed, wide grin on his face as he grabbed Ben’s legs with his large hands, hooking them securely around his waist before rolling them over. The sheets twisted, tangling between their bodies, not that either of them cared in at that moment, mind and bodies fuelled with more important matters.

\--

Taking in a shuddering breath, Callum ran his fingers through his hair once more. He didn’t dare look at just how badly his fingers were shaking. He could hear Ben pottering about in the en suite, a soft hum of a Christmas song filtering through the open door.

He buttoned his suit jacket and smoothed down the material across his chest, checking the tie was straight before making a frustrated noise, unbuttoning the jacket once more - undecided on how best to wear it. They’d (Ben) decided to wear matching suits, his dark blue tie matching the material of Ben’s suit whilst Callum’s black suit was the same shade as Ben’s tie. It was simpler than Callum had imagined when Ben first brought up wearing matching outfits to a party he was already terrified of going to, but he could admit, Ben had done a good job. 

Even the tailoring was exact.

Callum fixed his tie, running his hands through his hair again before he gave himself a final once over and turned away from the mirror. 

“Look at you.” Ben purred as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Bit gorgeous, ain’t you?”

“Only a bit?” Callum dipped his head to lay a light kiss on Ben’s lips, thumb pressing against the dimple as it appeared with Ben’s wide grin. “You look incredible.” He whispered, a secret between the two of them and the walls that surrounded them even though they would soon walk out of that door and down the stairs to be shared with the rest of the guests. 

Ben, who was usually so self-aware, so confident, blushed in that moment and leaned his head forward to rest his forehead against Callum’s chest, just over his heart. 

Curling an arm around Ben’s waist underneath his jacket, Callum couldn’t help but smile, eyes watering as he choked suddenly with the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling in his head and his heart. These were the moments he’d been looking for his whole life, ones which tugged at his heart, filled it up until it was overflowing, burning through his veins so much that it hurt, in the best possible way.

It was addictive, feeling like this. And he never wanted to let it go. 

“I love you.” Callum curled his arm tighter, gripping Ben’s hip enough to leave small crinkles in his finely pressed shirt. “Only a bit.” He tacked on, lifting the mood as he cleared the lump in his throat. As much as Callum loved these soft, gentle moments between the two of them, seeing the real Ben, it wasn’t what the shorter man needed right now. 

Not when they had to perform in front of all these people. Because that’s what it was. Performing. Everybody did it. Acted, put on their persona, in front of others. Those who weren’t ones you wanted to bare your soul to. And Ben did it, perhaps more than anybody else. 

“Well, I barely like you so I guess that’s fair?” Ben pulled back with a clumsy kiss to Callum’s cheek. “Shall we?” He offered out his hand.

Callum didn’t respond, only taking Ben’s outstretched hand in his own one, sweaty palm against sweaty palm as they stepped out of their safe haven and into the bustling chaos.

\--

Reaching for another flute of champagne, Callum couldn’t help the misery that was setting into his bones. 

It had been well over two hours since they’d stepped downstairs, into the whirlwind of tailored waiting staff filling flutes, chef’s shouting as the frustration boiled over, the need to get the canopies looking expensive. 

Because, Callum had learned, this party was nothing but an excuse to showcase just how rich they were. Or at least, that’s the impression he was getting. 

There were gold flakes in champagne, gold leaf on food that he could neither pronounce or eat. Even the giant Norwegian Fir was covered in gold ribbon. 

It was a lot. 

And from the look on Phil’s face, he agreed. 

Seeing the old man walk with a heavier stomp in his foot, face turning redder by the minute, only made Ben on edge. 

Not that Callum would know. He hadn’t managed to speak to his boyfriend once since he was ripped away from him the second they’d stepped foot into the room. 

He couldn’t blame him, though. He’d guessed this would happen. But that didn’t make it any easier on Callum himself, who knew nobody here. The ‘real’ guests were expecting to start arriving within the hour and, of course, Ben and Phil were at the door, ready to greet them. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He stopped a young woman - a waiter - on their way back to the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed red, the soft blonde strands of her hair wispy and out of place from the rushing backwards and forwards she’d completed. 

He let out a sigh as she only looked him up and down and scoffed in response. Clearly she felt he wasn’t waiting material. 

Smoothing down his suit jacket self-consciously, Callum looked down at his champagne, swirling it to watch the gold flakes dance around the glass.

“Anyone would think you’d been put on the naughty list, with how sad you’re looking.”

Callum looked up sharply from his drink, grin already on his face at the sound of Tasha’s voice. 

“You look incredible.” He promised her, reaching forward for a one armed hug. She wore a tight christmas-red dress that finished just above her knee, paired with a pair of killer heels that just screamed her name.

“This is my girlfriend, Lily.” She offered in response, gesturing to the shorter, equally beautiful, woman beside her. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Callum, Ben’s boyfriend. And I work with Tasha, I’m the receptionist.” Callum gave Lily a gentle smile, holding his hand out for her to shake. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Lily pulled her hand out of her black dress-pant pocket, reaching forward and grasping Callum’s lightly. 

“Oh, really?” Callum asked, eyes flicking over to Tasha’s as his grin morphed into a teasing smirk. “All terrible things?”

“Could this place be any more ridiculous?”

The conversation was interrupted by Greg, dressed in an all black suit that Callum was sure he’d already seen him wearing at the office previously. The three of them turned to face him, each wearing a look of disbelief on their faces. 

“Ridiculous?” Tasha parroted, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah.” The middle-aged man shrugged. “Fucking ridiclous. We already know they’re rich, don’t need them rubbing it in our faces.”

“I don’t think they can just change the size of their house just to protect your sensitivities.”

“Maybe they should.”

Callum couldn’t help but scoff at that, him and Tasha sharing a look. This was exactly what Greg was like. Always complaining, whinging (as Ben liked to put it) about the most stupid of things that weren’t worth the breath it took to speak them. 

“I think it looks nice.” Callum finally spoke before finishing off the last of his champagne. 

“You would say that. This place’ll be yours when Phil finally pops it.”

“It’ll be Ben’s.” Callum corrected.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, that’s exactly why you’re with him, ain’t it?” Greg chuckled by himself. “That’s why you’re letting Simon drool all over you at the same time. If you and Ben were genuine, you wouldn’t have been kissing Simon by the vending machine last week.”

“I didn’t. We were talking.” Callum told him, warning in the tone of his voice as he took a step closer to Greg. It was that movement forward that brought the younger man into light, clearly frozen in the process of making his way over, two champagne flutes in hand, fingers clutching at the base with knuckles so white it was a surprise the glass hadn’t shattered. 

“Ben.” Callum whispered, swallowing the lump in the back of his throat, shaking his head. “He’s making it up. I didn’t.” He began to plead his defense. Greg had only been winding him up, he knew that, but the look on Ben’s face in that moment made his stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Bit boring if you ask me.” Ben finally spoke, tension thick in the small circle of colleagues. “Simon.” He clarified. “Coulda chose someone with a bit more about them.”

Callum shook his head adamantly, silently begging Ben not to close down, to let him explain it was all just a mistake. But he could see the tension seeping into his shoulders, adding to the pressure that was already there, the way his eyes darkened.

“Anyway. I was just bringing these over.” Ben stepped forward, handing the flutes to Tasha and Lily before he turned and left the four of them stood in silence. 

\--

“Trouble in paradise?”

Callum looked up from where he’d sat down on the bar stool, nursing a bottle of beer he’d begged the bartender for.

“Go away, Simon.” He rolled his eyes.

“What happened?” Simon asked, touching Callum’s shoulder.

“Don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you wanted.” He couldn’t help but scoff, shoving the hand off of him. “Did you tell Greg that you kissed me? That I kissed you?”

“No.” The older man retracted his hand, taking a step back. This clearly wasn’t the nice, friendly Callum from the office and Simon didn’t know how to react.

“No. So where’d he get that idea from then?” Callum slammed the bottle down on the glass surface, with more force than need be, drawing attention to the two of them. “You know what? Just leave me alone. Here, in the office. Wherever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my boyfriend.”

With that, Callum stood up from the stool, beer forgotten about as he swept his gaze across the room, noting that Ben still hadn’t returned from when he’d stormed off. Ignoring everyone’s gaze, he stood still for a second, thinking over where Ben might be hiding before he made his way down the long corridor towards the garden and garage. 

Stepping out into the cold snow storm made him realise just how warm it was inside. He wrapped his arms around himself, breath visible as he carefully made his way across the grass, snow seeping into his shoes, making his socks damp.

There were no other footprints in the snow which meant that it was unlikely Ben was hiding out in the garage in his car but Callum still held out hope. Maybe enough snow had fallen down to cover them. 

“Ben?” He called out, twisting the frozen handle of the garage door. “You in here?”

A shiver ran through his spine as he waited for an answer, snowflakes dripping from his hair and down his nose. He tried once more, calling louder, pushing the door handle harder, but nothing. 

Callum let out a sigh. It was typical of Greg to cause drama. He got off on it. Usually it was sly comments in the office, somebody stealing someone’s food from the fridge when it was him all along, moving furniture and stationary around. But to ruin somebody’s relationship? To ruin Ben and Callum? That was a whole new low, even for Greg. 

And Callum wasn’t letting it happen. 

\--

Stepping up the long staircase, Callum’s concern only grew tenfold. He’d been everywhere looking for Ben. The garage, the kitchen, his bedroom, the cellar. And he couldn’t find him anywhere. 

Normally he’d wait for Ben to come to him. 

But this wasn’t like him. Ben should be out in the party, the life of it as he joked and flirted his true feelings away. But instead he was hiding.

And Callum didn’t know what to do. 

Except pace up and down the lone corridor he’d found on the second floor, wearing a whole into the posh carpet, scuffing his previously-shined shoes. 

Until the door next to him creaked open and he walked into whoever was walking out of it.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, stepping back to catch his footing before he fell. That was the last thing he needed. He looked down at the person opposite him, mouth dropping open as he took in just who was standing in front of him.

“There you are.” Callum let his shoulders slump as he’d literally bumped into Ben, the shorter man stepping out of the dark library. “What are you doing in there?”

“Just getting away. Lot’s of noise.” He gestured towards his implant, shrugging his shoulders as he failed to meet Callum’s eye. 

“Are you okay?” Callum asked, cupping the side of Ben’s face so he’d meet Callum’s gaze. “You know what he said was bullshit, right? I’ve not been near Simon. Or anyone, for that matter. Only want you.”

“I know.” Ben gave him a tight smile, grasping Callum by the wrists and pulling him forward into the unlight library. 

“Ben?” He questioned as his back thudded against the wall once they were inside, under the cover of darkness. 

“Callum.” The younger man hummed, stepping between Callum’s leg, bodies pressed together as he connected their lips. 

A soft, unexpected moan slipped through Callum’s lips as he leaned into the kiss, arms sliding around Ben’s waist. It had been hours since he’d last kissed his boyfriend and he was brave enough to admit that he’d missed it.

“Wait, wait.” Callum mumbled. “You’re not distracting me with sex, are you?”

“Is it working?”

“Not really.” Callum couldn’t help but smile, head tipping back against the wall. Even if Ben was upset - hurting - at least he was still standing in front of him, crass jokes on the tip of his tongue.

“Good job I ain’t trying then.” Ben muttered, biting Callum’s bottom lip before he reconnected their lips.

Neither of them could see, the stream of light from the open door just missing them. Not that it mattered. Callum could trace Ben with his eyes shut, map out every single part of his body, of who he was. 

He felt Ben swipe his tongue across his bottom lip and Callum couldn’t help but smile against his lips, hand dragging up over his spine to cup the back of Ben’s head in his large hand, holding him close. 

It was exhilarating, hearing the murmurs, the clattering of plates and glasses filtering through the corridor of the party going on downstairs, feet away from where the two of them were making out in the library, of all places. 

He moaned as he curled his tongue around Ben’s, feeling the shorter man pull his shirt out of his trousers, resting his hot, slightly sweaty palm against Callum’s stomach. 

It was as though time had stopped right there, in that moment. The noise faded away, the worry and tension melting as he was surrounded by Ben. The taste of him, his distinct smell of expensive aftershave, the wet sound of their tongues gliding against one another, chests heaving with heavy breath. 

There was nothing left but the two of them in that moment.

\--

Swiping his thumb across his bottom lip, Callum fixed his suit as he followed Ben out of the dark library and into the main area where everyone was taking their seats around the table, the bell ringing out ready for the game of Secret Santa to begin. He looked down at the contents, his eyes easily finding the present he had brought, a bright red ‘five’ having been scrawled across the front of it. 

“All right then, everyone. We’re a man down but we’ll start without him. I’m sure Simon will show up eventually.” Sharon started, black dress glistening in the low lights. “If you could all get your invitations out so we can verify your number, we can begin.”

Callum cleared his throat, watching as the murmurs picked up, people fumbling for their bags and in their pockets to retrieve their invitation card. He took his own out of the inner left pocket, feeling just how fast his heart was beating.

“Number one, if you could get your present.” Sharon took her seat next to Phil, checking her own invitation for the number. 

Checking over his invitation for the sake of everyone else doing so, to keep his eyes and hands busy, Callum brushed his thumb over the number three that sat in the red circle at the top of his invitation. 

A chair scraped back against the laminate, dull shriek silencing the room as everyone turned to the noise, finding Ben stood there, wide grin on his face. Of course it was Ben. Callum let out a small sigh of relief that his (probably underpar) present he’d brought wasn’t for his boyfriend. 

He watched as the shorter man grasped the small box with the number one written across the top from the table and perched himself back down in his seat. 

“No surprises that I was given the number one. Most people tend to agree I’m the best. Although that’s usually saved for the bedroom, but I’m not against tables.” Ben smirked, dropping a sly wink to Alex - one of the contractors. 

“I always thought first was the worst?” Tasha asked, leaning forward in her chair, tongue in cheek.

“Ben.” Phil huffed. “Just open it, will you?”

The aforementioned man rolled his eyes in Callum’s direction before he tore into the wrapping paper, throwing it back on the table with disregard. 

“Huh.” Ben muttered. “This present isn’t actually that bad.” He turned the box to reveal the Apple logo followed by the word ‘Airpods’. “It’ll give me something to drown you lot out in the office. Thanks.”

“Who’s next?”

A flurry of staff distracted Callum as everyone checked their numbers once again, picking up the discarded wrapping paper before moving back to where they’d been told to stand, so quick that Callum wasn’t all that sure he hadn’t imagined them.

“That’s me.” Naomi - an up and coming singer/songwriter (and more importantly, potential customer) stood, smoothing down her christmas green dress. She gave everyone a gentle smile as the room fell silent, her present in hand. Everyone knew the significance of this moment, this whole event was for the purpose of impressing people like Naomi. 

Callum couldn’t help but flick his eyes over to Ben, worried expression on his face until the younger man sent a wink his way. 

So this was Ben’s present. Or Phil’s. Maybe even Sharon’s.

Which meant that there wasn’t anything secret about this game. They’d played it perfectly so that potential clients were made to have good presents, because the Mitchell’s weren’t going to fuck around with their choices. 

Of course. 

Callum shook his head in disbelief, huff of a breath leaving his nose. He wasn’t sure whether it was an ingenious move or not. All he knew was that it confirmed just how on top of their game they were. 

Both literally and metaphorically. 

The sound of clapping and the occasional ‘ooh’ dragged him out of his thoughts. He looked around the room, noting the expensive looking bottle in Naomi’s hands before he realised what - or who - was next. 

He was.

Without being prompted, he stood from his seat and looked for the labelled present brought for him. 

Callum furrowed his eyebrows as he took the envelope, sliding it across the countertop before it was sat in front of him. He took a quick glance around the rest of the table, noting the size and shape of the different presents. They were all rather small, box shape - probably expensive perfume or aftershave, perhaps even an expensive watch or two. 

And yet this was just a plain, red envelope. 

His eyes traced the bold number ‘three’ that was scribbled on the front. He gave a small shrug to himself, sliding his thumb underneath the edge of the lip, the sound of paper tearing the only noise filling the room, except the soft sound of the piano still playing gentle Christmas songs. 

It was clear the entire room was also in a state of confusion - maybe even shock. 

“Go on then, babe. Tell us what it is.” Ben called from the top of the table where he sat next to Phil and Sharon. 

Right. He remembered then that this game was rigged. So, whatever was in the envelope couldn’t be too bad. 

Callum gave him a fleeting smile before his focus drew back to the envelope, pulling the contents out. He looked down. He didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe a gift voucher, a reservation for two at an expensive restaurant. But what he was holding was neither - it was a christmas card. 

“Someone’s cheated the minimum budget.” Greg laughed from where he was sat next to him, reaching for his drink. 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Callum cleared his throat, nodding his head. He looked down at the card, taking in the cartoon penguins with their santa hat’s on, the words ‘Merry Christmas’ surrounding them. Whether this was some type of practical joke - probably from Ben, Callum didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Even if he had been looking forward to this after seeing what others had received. 

“What’s it say inside?” Tasha asked, leaning forward in her seat, opposite him. 

Callum opened the card, taking in the printed words that harshly stood out against the too-bright white background. 

“It’s a poem.” He announced. 

“Well, that’s sweet.” Ben chuckled. 

“N-No.” Callum shook his head, swallowing thickly as he took in the words, confusion and anxiety swirling in the pit of his stomach. “No, I don’t think it is.”

“Read it out, then.” Phil’s gruff voice piped up.

Callum opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked around the room, reading everyone’s anticipated faces. His eyes watered as he read the words once more, the one man’s name who was missing from the table shouting loudly in the back of his head. 

He reached for his glass, downing the rest of it in a futile attempt to relax his constricted throat, voice lost in that moment. He gripped the paper with shaky hands, the cheap card crinkled under his fingers. 

“Merry Christmas to you I wish,  
There’s just one here we seem to miss.  
In the library with a knife,  
Cluedo seems to have come to life.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! 
> 
> Let me know what you think an if you have any theories!

“Merry Christmas to you I wish,  
There’s just one here we seem to miss.  
In the library with a knife,  
Cluedo seems to have come to life.”

“That’s an shit present.” Ben broke the silence with a cackle. “Who’s number four, then?” 

Nobody moved. 

Everybody’s eyes were focused on Callum. He could feel them. Small pinpricks digging into his skin, turning his stomach as beads of sweat formed at the back of his neck.

He knew what happened next. 

They’d have to go to the library.

They’d need to find Simon.

But through the loud voices that were screaming in the back of his mind, echoed by the muttering around the table, one thought shouted the loudest.

This game - this Secret Santa - it had all been a set up. He’d worked out already that the Mitchell’s had rigged the game. 

What he couldn’t understand was this envelope, the letter. Why him?

“E-Excuse me.” Callum finally spoke, talking over Tasha as she reached for her present. 

The scratch of the chair against the floorboards rang through his head, the clattering of it against the floor as it fell down with the force of which he stood, twisting his empty stomach tighter. 

He wondered if the chair was a metaphor - for tonight, for his relationship with Ben, for his entire life. 

Him sitting down, calm and happy, to the momentum of him pulling the chair back and finally the crescendo as it collapsed around him parodying him, his life. 

Callum didn’t wait for permission to leave the table as he stumbled away from it, eyes and mind hazy. He wasn’t too sure where his feet were taking him, he didn’t care. 

He just couldn’t be around them for a second longer. 

He wasn’t sure exactly who ‘them’ were. Maybe the Mitchell’s. Maybe everyone at the table, the fakes and the phonies. Maybe every single person in the room. 

That wasn’t who he was. This wasn’t him.

It was suffocating.

Ripping open the back door, Callum made his way through the snow, the blanketed ground crunching under his heavy feet, towards the small canopy and the bench underneath it. 

Maybe the bench was the metaphor. Him, surrounded by the snow, trying to hold the roof up, keep the fake people at bay. 

It would’ve been a futile attempt, anyway, he realised as he swiped the settling snow from the arm of the bench. 

He took a deep breath, ice cold air racketing through his body, shaking him. 

Callum looked down at his hands, noticing the envelope was still grasped tight. He scrunched it up tight and threw it into the wind, watching a strong gust swept it up and deposited it right back at his feet. 

“Callum! Cal!” Ben called out, shouting over the sound of the weather as he attempted to cross the icy cold path to where Callum was sat. “It’s bloody freezing out here.” He huffed as he sat down on the wooden bench beside the taller man.

“It’s quiet.” Callum offered in return, staring down at the envelope on the floor. 

“I know.” He leaned his head on Callum’s arm, seeking warmth. “Tasha’s just opened her present. She got another statue. Someone must really hate her.” Ben chuckled. 

“Someone?” 

“Yeah. Ain’t forgot the rules already, have you? Clue’s in the name, babe, Secret Santa.”

“Right.” Callum couldn’t help but scoff. 

“What?” Ben frowned, sitting up straight once again. “If you’re upset about that naff present, I’ll get you a better one. I know you said no more gifts, but it’s Christmas. So, does it really count?”

“I ain’t upset about the present, Ben.” Callum swiped his damp fringe back in place. “I’m upset that you keep lying to me. I know you and your dad, or Sharon, or whoever, makes it up. Plans this entire game out. Make sure you get the important numbers. You know who was getting presents for who, so if this is some, some dumb, twisted game, I wanna know who gave me it.”

Callum watched Ben as he put his head in his hands, rubbing the back of his head as he let out a long sigh before meeting the older man’s eyes. 

“Dad had Naomi.”

“So who did you have? Me?” Callum swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing the words out. “Because I know you Ben. And I know that as much as you care about those people in there, your staff, you don’t care enough to buy them shit. Not if you had a choice in the matter. Not if you could choose me.”

Ben gave a slight nod of the head before he reached into his pocket, sliding the invitation across the length of the bench towards Callum.

“Look at it.”

Callum stared down at the invitation, watching as small snowflakes hit the card, sneaking in through the front of the canopy, aided by the wind. 

The ink ran, mocking him. It had the power to make or break their relationship. He wasn’t too sure he was ready to look. 

“Please. Don’t drag this out.” Ben whispered from where he sat, it seemed like there was miles, acres of distance between them now. 

Callum gave a small nod, reaching with red fingers burning from the cold, to turn the invitation over. 

His eyes trailed from the left number, the number one - Ben’s receiving present number - to the right. His giving number. 

Number three. 

The satisfaction of being right never came. This wasn’t something he wanted to be right about. He’d never wanted to be more wrong in all his life. 

He didn’t know what to say. What were the right words? What did all of this even mean? He wanted to stand, to walk away, but he wasn’t sure his shaking legs could carry him. Whether it was from the frosty weather or the even frostier atmosphere, he couldn’t tell. 

“Listen,” Ben reached forward, resting his hand on Callum’s arm. The touch burned. A feeling Callum had grown used to, welcomed...loved, but now he wasn’t sure it was wanted.

It was like a sharp knife had been plunged into his stomach when he opened that envelope, and it just kept being twisted and twisted and twisted. 

“I didn’t mean for it to upset you. It was just a joke, you know, from our conversation this morning.” The shorter man continued. “I’d forgotten to get a Secret Santa present and I thought it’d be funny, I was wrong, I’m sorry.”

Callum watched the large oak tree in front of them, snow piling and piling upon the branches until one buckled under the weight and snapped, the loud crack scaring away the bird nesting inside of it. 

He couldn’t understand. Ben’s idea of a joke and this note were in two separate words. Maybe not towards someone else, but to Callum, if he truly felt how he said he did, he wouldn’t have ever thought of doing this to Callum. 

Unless he didn’t really know him as well as he thought. 

“Look at me, please.” Ben whispered into the wind, fingers squeezing around Callum’s covered forearm. 

Callum didn’t want to. That was a lie. He wanted to look at Ben more than ever, never wanted to take his eyes off of him if he could. But, he knew the second he did, he’d just brush this off. Take Ben at face value and move on. Even if so many things didn’t add up. 

“I’ve got your real present upstairs. A weekend away, me and you. Wherever you want to go, you go and I’ll follow you.”

“Where’s Simon? If this is a joke, then where is he?”

“I don’t know, maybe he ate some bad shrimp.” Ben joked, sighing when he didn’t get any reaction from the older man. “Please, I can’t lose you over this.”

Callum gave a small nod, and against his gut instinct, reached for Ben’s hand. He stared down at them. His larger hand engulfing Ben’s smaller one, both of their fingertips red with the frost.

“That - what you did Ben, how it made me feel, I thought he was actually...dead.” Callum stumbled over his words, so unsure of what to say, how he should be feeling. If he was overreacting. Maybe it was funny. He didn’t know. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ben, feeling as though the bridge had been rebuilt between them, moved closer and rested his head on Callum’s chest. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I was just - well, I wasn’t thinking, I guess.” 

“I know.” Callum echoed Ben’s words, voice no louder than a murmur as the two of them sat quietly, watching the snowfall around them. And if Callum could’ve seen Ben’s face, could’ve seen the fleeting look that crossed his expression, eyes filled with nerves, well, maybe they wouldn’t be sat here like this. 

\--

They’d made it back inside just in time to see the last present being opened, the table chatting away happily with one another, Callum’s experience clearly forgotten. How they managed to just ignore it, without the briefest hint of worry, he didn’t know. 

But there was a lot he didn’t know, apparently. 

He did a quick glance around the room, over the glassy eyes of people he knew, and people he didn’t. Obviously, the champagne was still flowing freely. The few who had left the table, stood in huddles on the outer skirt of the room, chuckling, giving the subject of their conversation a side eye. 

Callum looked away as his eyes met one of them. 

His reaction was evidently not forgotten about by some, then. 

But, as he finished his survey of the room, there was still no Simon. What that meant, he wasn’t sure. Callum didn’t want to think the worst, he couldn’t spiral again. Not with this many vultures in the room, waiting to pick the skin from his bones. 

Maybe Ben was right. He’d probably just gone home. 

A wave of guilt flushed through Callum, thinking back to the last conversation he’d had with the other man. The way his temper had let loose in a way he wasn’t proud of. Callum would’ve wanted to leave, too, if he didn’t feel welcome here.

And why would Simon have felt welcome?

He’d been made to be the butt of one of Greg’s jokes. Yelled at by Callum in front of everyone. Glared at by Tasha for upsetting her best friend. Even Ben had found the time to make his feelings abundantly clear.

“You look like you could use one of these.” 

Callum grasped the flute of champagne with a grateful smile as he looked up to meet Tasha’s eyes. He turned in his chair as she took the one next to him - most of the party now back on their feet.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you looking so sad? It’s twice now I’ve caught you looking like this.” She rested her hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Is it Ben?”

“When’s it not?” Callum gave a humourless laugh, thumb brushing against the cold glass. “Just...the whole present thing got to me, a bit.”

“I’ve known Ben over two years now. This is my third Christmas party. He’s different around them, even I can see it.” The pair of them looked across the room, watching Ben with his family in a small circle, arms flailing and expressions taut. “But what I see even more, is how much he loves you. How much you’re made for one another.”

Callum met Ben’s gaze, Tasha’s words echoed around his head and he couldn’t help but give his boyfriend a fond smile. If they could survive the rest of tonight, Callum knew deep down they’d be okay. They’d make it. He knew that Ben wouldn’t ever put Callum before his family - and he would never ask that of him - but one day they’d find a happy medium to settle into.

“As for that present of yours, I’ve put on my deerstalker hat and whipped out my magnifying glass, and I have some ideas.”

Callum smiled. Even amongst the confusion and the feeling that he was losing himself, he was still thankful for his best friend. He hadn’t had many friends in his life, not ones that knew everything, that would talk to him about anything. Those who knew he was gay, never wanted to talk to him about it. About the people he was seeing, the dates he’d experienced.

He was glad he had left them all behind when he moved to Walford. 

“It was Ben.” He revealed, voice low, sad. 

“What?” Tasha hissed, leaning forward in her seat, even ignoring Lily as she came to sit down next to them. “How did you know?”

“He showed me his invitation.” Callum twisted the flute in his hand. He didn’t want to look at either of them, shame flooding through him. “It’s okay,” he gave them a weak smile. “It was a joke, that was all.”

“So, Simon isn’t d-e-a-d?” Lily leaned forward, voice no louder than a whisper. 

“No.” Callum cracked a smile at her antics. “Think he’s gone home. I would’ve done too, if I didn’t feel very welcome. I can’t blame him.”

“Simon, the most persistent man who can never take a hint, went home?” Tasha raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows, leaning back in her seat with a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Where else would he be?” Callum shrugged. 

“In the library?”

“No.” He shut her down immediately. There was no way he was in the library. No way this was actually happening, Ben wouldn’t have done what she was suggesting. He couldn’t have. 

“We could always...go and look?” Lily suggested. “Think about it. We can go take a look, realise it’s empty then we can all stop questioning where Simon is and what’s going on. It’s the perfect solution.”

It had crossed his mind. Of course it had, he’d have been stupid if it hadn’t. When he and Ben had come back from the garden, he’d glanced at the shut door. He’d thought about sneaking away, lying about needing a drink or the toilet, and dashing in there. 

But he hadn’t for the same reason as he didn’t want to now. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if Simon was in there. Alive or dead, because either way it would’ve been something Ben had done. 

It was cowardly. Not facing up to the possibilities, living in an ignorance bliss as he currently was - even if it wasn’t all that blissful.

He was stuck, his heart pulling him in a different direction to his head. 

If he agreed to go and look, it showed the trust he had in Ben, trust which was (guiltily) wavering. 

If he refused and stayed here, allowing the Mitchell’s to continue with whatever plan they were clearly scheming out, it suggested he thought Ben was guilty. Or at least involved.

And the worst scenario - they went to the library and found a dead body, Simon’s dead body. He’d already told Tasha it was Ben who gave him the note, she would know straight away he’d done this. And Callum wasn’t too sure he could trust her enough not to do anything stupid. 

If Simon was dead, he thought as his stomach turned, he needed to protect Ben from others finding out. He needed to let the Mitchell’s handle it.

“No, no, I think-,”

“Let’s go.” Tasha agreed, speaking over him. “We - you - need to know, Cal. Whatever’s happened, we’re here for you.”

Callum nodded. He didn’t want to do this. But as the two of them stood, hands still clasped together, he had no other option but to follow. 

He pushed back his seat, wooden legs against the polished floor screeching in protest, the noise echoing around and around Callum’s head as led lined his stomach. 

They say that in moments like these you realise which option you truly wanted. Moments where decisions are made for you. Whether it twists your gut and makes sweat bead at the nape of your neck. 

Or whether there’s a sense of calm. Relief, almost, because you know what’s about to happen. 

Callum knew. Had known since the moment he read the note in the envelope. He just didn’t want to believe it.

As the sound of Tasha’s stilettos and Lily’s boots hitting the floor filled his ears. He knew. 

As Ben grabbed his arm, voice muffled through the haze in Callum’s head, he knew. 

As the four of them stepped into the library, as Tasha turned on the lights, as the shocked gasps were released, he knew. 

Simon was dead.

—

“We need to call the police.” Greg muttered, pacing backwards and forwards across the deep red carpet, shoes scuffed.

“No.” Ben and Tasha spoke at the same time, the two of them giving the other a surprising but grateful look. 

“We can’t. We need to think of where we are. Who we are - who we work for.” Tasha continued. 

It was calmer than Callum had expected. Not that it had ever crossed his mind what a murder scene would look like at a Christmas party. 

But the Mitchell’s were business people. They’d been brought up to keep a calm head in the face of anything. Apparently that extended to murder. 

Unless this wasn’t their first cover up. Not that Callum wanted to think about that.

As soon as Ben had seen the body, seen Simon, he had left the library. Callum didn’t have the stomach to chase him. 

It hadn’t mattered, though. He soon came back with his father and Greg in tow. The inner circle, everyone present. Sharon had been left behind to start wrapping up the party. 

And now here they were, the seven of them - eight, including Simon, wondering what to do next.

The Mitchell’s were huddled by themselves, similar to how they were in the main room. Callum wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He couldn’t make much of anything, really.

Pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, he counted to five, to ten, before he pulled them away, taking a deep breath to clear his mind. 

He needed a clear mind. 

All signs pointed to Ben. The note was from. The suspicious behaviour. Running to his dad as soon as they’d discovered Simon. 

And yet, something in Callum’s gut turned. He wasn’t sure Ben was capable of this. 

Tasha and Lily knew it was Ben who’d sent the note. Greg had no idea, or at least Callum didn’t think so. And the Mitchell’s, they had their own secrets which he hadn’t even attempted to uncover. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

He wasn’t sure of anything this evening. 

Yesterday - even this morning, if he was being completely honest - his life couldn’t have been going better. He’d never been happier.

And yet his whole life, his happiness, was unravelling before him. 

“It’s clearly some kind of riddle.” Lily suggested. “Callum, do you still have it?”

Callum wordlessly pulled out the Christmas card from his pocket, the edges frayed from where he’d scrunched it up earlier on outside. He had picked it up as they’d come back to the party, hastily shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t need to keep it though, the words hadn’t left him. He couldn’t stop repeating them over and over again. 

“Cluedo.” Greg pointed out, the three of them stood close as they all analysed the words. “Obviously whoever this was, has more clues for us. They want us to play the game.”

“Exactly!” Lily grinned before clearing her throat, dropping the smile on her face. “So the library - that’s where we are. Where Simon was. But-,” She paused, walking back over to the dead body. “He hadn’t been stabbed. What does the knife mean, then?”

She was right. 

He’d avoided looking at Simon, apart from the original glance when he’d entered the room. But now, he could see what Lily had meant. 

Simon had been tied to the chair with thick rope around his chest, his head slumped forward. He had blood around his nose and the side of his head - probably from being hit with something. But his neck had been painted black and blue. Strangulation. That’s how he’d died. 

“Hey.”

Callum was drawn from his thoughts, from staring at Simon’s dead body, with the murmur of a greeting and a nudge to the arm. He averted his gaze to find Ben standing next to him. 

“Hey.” He repeated. 

“How you holding up?” Ben asked, the worry clear on his face for everyone to see. Why that worry was there, Callum wasn’t sure. For him? For whoever had murdered Simon? Or to protect their family secrets?

“I’m-,” Callum paused. His usual answer - I’m fine - was on the tip of his tongue, ready to be repeated like it usually was whenever a stranger had asked how he was. But Ben wasn’t a stranger, no matter how much this night was messing with his head, he had to be open, be honest with Ben, and hope the younger man would return the same. “I don’t know.” 

“Me neither.” Ben admitted, fingertips brushing the back of Callum’s hand. It was clear neither of them were sure of themselves, both wondering where they stood with the other.

Callum knew it was his fault. He’d chosen to believe Ben and yet continued to act like he hadn’t. He was at war with himself. He didn’t know what to do and who to trust. 

All he knew was with the single touch of Ben’s hand in his, he couldn’t lose him. If this was him, he hoped to find a way through it. With Ben. 

“What if we look for a book related to knives? Or something similar in the title?” Tasha suggested. “There’s gotta be a reason why we’re in the library.”

“You’re a genius!” Lily squealed with excitement at that and pressed a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s lips. “Right, let’s all take a section and check. We’re looking for anything that has anything knife-related.” She reminded everyone. 

\--

It was Callum who found the second envelope. 

He thought someone was playing a cruel joke on him. 

Lily was right - it was tucked inside the front of a book about 17th century weapons. Callum couldn’t see why someone would want to learn about that - let alone a family in the property development market. But each to their own, he guessed. 

What had worried him more, had dried his mouth and brought bile to the back of his throat, was the location of the book. The library was huge. Bigger than Callum’s flat and two storeys high and yet the book had been found in exactly the same place as he and Ben were earlier, where the younger man had got on his knees for Callum in the middle of the Christmas party. 

Had Simon been there the entire time?

Is that what Ben had been doing when Callum had found him?

He had to confront Ben again, Callum knew that much, but to do so without everyone else seeing or hearing would be difficult. If they thought Callum had doubts, his boyfriend of all people, they’d decide Ben was guilty and march him down to the police station. 

Callum wouldn’t allow that. Whatever was happening, whether Ben was guilty or not, he wasn’t losing him. 

He just hoped Ben wouldn’t let him go, either. 

“Jingle bells, jingle bells,  
Which of you excels?  
To find out what this is all about  
Don’t forget to come on out.”


End file.
